Dream Within Worlds
by Inwe Nolatari
Summary: A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be. LOTR/HDM crossover - Redone
1. Children Dream the Strangest Things

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter One:** Children dream the strangest things.

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

**A/N:** Looking back on all the reviews and favorites I had gotten on this, I really began to wonder on my writing ability. I guess, when I first wrote this, it was something to quell my thirst for writing, although I always seemed to doubt myself, after not getting any reviews. After some worthwhile experiences in my life when it comes to writing, I decided to give this another shot and come to terms with the fact that a review isn't simply for publicity, it's to help improve my skills as a writer. So, after a very long time…here is an attempting on writing this story with a newer twist.

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Dinner in the Thrandruilian palace was, as always, unpredictable. Normally, those who had met King Thranduil and his family would consider them the perfect picture image of what a royal family should truly represent. A stern king who led with a firm hand too control at the head of the table. The Queen, although had just passed away and was now under the loving care of Eru. The eldest son, Hérion was often spoken of us as the right hand man to the King, taking on a rather 'advisor-esque' type of attitude. The serious no tomfoolery sort of young man who strived to be as hardened as his father, yet still retaining the soft features of his mother, as well as his deep green eyes. His young brother, and the middle child, Taurnil, took more or less after his mother's side. Taurnil seemed far more understanding of things, although he wasn't what many would call a pushover. While Hérion strove towards knowledge, Taurnil's ambition was to be a seasoned warrior in his father's army.

Unlike his brother, however, the elf often left his daily life where it belonged and his family life with his family. Last but not least, was the beaming, golden ray of sunshine, sitting next to his big brother Taurnil who sat opposite from his bigger brother Hérion. This small bundle of joy was the last gift bestowed upon the family by the late Queen just before her passing. Legolas was his name. The child (despite the hardships of being the youngest and constantly surrounded by bigger and older people) was a very polite and respectful child, having been taught manners and rewarded for whenever they are used. He was also, as one might guess, the one who mostly caused the unpredictability of the family. When the palace doors were shut, and dinner was ready, was when the mischievous child was ready to strike. Some might say it was due to the troublesome twins in Rivendell. This, however, shall be a story for another time, lest this one never continue.

Late in the evening, and there was peace in the area. Peace that was rare, of course. Dol Guldur remained an ever-present shadow upon the once Green Wood (which, unfortunately, soon was named Mirkwood thereafter). This evening, however, was one that held no worries and would not be taken for granted. The family sat together silently, the soft tinkling of silverware connecting with plates filled the large dining hall. Candle chandeliers hung overhead, casting the area in a warm glow as the family sat, speaking softly as night began to blanket the sky. Conversation soon drifted warmly through the area, bringing attention to the setting at hand.

"The most interesting thing happened today, father," began Hérion as he delicately cut into a small piece of meat on his plate. Taurnil, who was leaned over slightly to assist his younger brother with his own food shared a knowing glance with his favorite ('And only!' as Legolas would so brightly point out) little sibling. Everything interesting _always_ happened, according to Hérion. The two, however, remained tight lip about any comments, opting to give funny looks to one another as their father spoke.

"Oh? And what might that have been?"

And thus, the 'oh so interesting' conversation started.

"I was in the library today," a groan sounded from the two younger blondes, which then erupted in one fit of giggles and the other a coy and innocent smile. Hérion cast his younger brothers a look and then pointedly ignored them. Thranduil too, gave them a look, one in which the two of them obeyed. It was one thing to obey an elder brother; it was a completely different matter when your father gave you 'the look'.

Sighing to himself in an attempt to keep a composed look, Hérion continued, "As I was saying, I was in the library today and,"

"Found a story?" asked Taurnil, smiling softly.

Hérion scowled. "No."

"Drew me a picture?" asked Legolas; snickering at the poke he received from his older brother.

Hérion's frown deepened. 'No."

"Found a book." at this statement, Legolas and Taurnil both seemed to double over with laughter, the owner of the voice smiling lightly at his eldest son who merely grit his teeth and returned to his food. So much for Ithat/I topic of conversation.

By the end of dinner, Hérion stood up quickly, asking his father his permission of leave before casting his younger brothers a green-eyed glare before turning swiftly and exiting the dining hall, blond hair trailing behind him lightly. After a few moments and a rather loud yawn from Legolas, Taurnil stood up as well, picking up Legolas who lightly protested to the notion. He as far too old to be carried by his brothers! Laughing lightly, Taurnil also requested dismissal from the table and turned to leave with his brother in tow, allowing their father a moment's peace at the now empty dinner table.

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A single candle was lit in the small and comfortable room. One small figure lay gently in the bed, casting a stubborn, light blue-eyed look to the elder figure that sat comfortably on the bed. The bigger being stared back, his dark blue eyes glinting in the candlelight. Finally, the larger one blinked, causing him to drop his head in 'shame' as the younger one smiled triumphantly. "You promised," stated Legolas, light blue eyes sparkling merrily as he watched his sibling.

"I know, I know," grumbled Taurnil, running his hand through his long blond hair. Each of the siblings had both their mother and fathers Taurnil and Legolas had slight variations of their fathers blue eyes. "Now, what was it I had to soft blond hair, the only different child being Hérion who had his mothers deep green eyes, while do again?" asked the elder with regret, watching his younger brother warily. And here Taurnil thought Ihe/I was the troublemaker. Alas, that was not to be, for Legolas had him beat. How this happened, he had no idea. Taurnil had met Eladdin and Elrohir long before Legolas, and had known them longer.

"Get ada to allow us to go have a picnic again!" said the young one, a hint of impatience in his tone. He had just told his brother what his proposition was only moments before. His brother remained silent for a moment before sighing and standing up. Legolas was about to start up with some comment yet was waved off by Taurnil. "Yes, yes. Good night, tithen lass. I shall see you in the morning," standing up, the elder blond blew out the candle and gently closed the door behind him, allowing the soft click to fill the silence in the small room. A pair of innocent blue eyes peered out from covers, staring out in the direction of the door before eventually rolling over and falling into the sweet darkness of sleep.

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Something wasn't right. Sitting up, the young elf peered around cautiously, half expecting Hérion to jump out of his closet and scare him half to death. No such thing happened. Biting the inside of his cheek, the blond slowly crawled out of his bed, heading for his door and turning it silently. What he saw in front of him gave him much confusion. Where was the family portrait that was hanging on the hallway wall across from his bedroom? That picture had always been there since he could remember. He didn't remember his mother, but he liked to pretend that she was always there, a comforting presence outside his room, watching with soft green eyes and a kind, compassionate smile.

Yet, it wasn't there. Neither was the cream colored wall that hung on it. Across from his room was another room. Did something happen and he sleep through some sort of construction? Or, better yet, maybe this was a secret door! Excitement soon fell over the young elf as he crept silently across the hall and opened the doorway.

Least to say, the excitement died down when he found out it was empty. Looking around the area, he frowned slightly. This place didn't seem right to the elf. It didn't' seem…elvish. Never in all his three hundred years of living (which is a big thing for one such as himself!) had he seen furniture like this. Stepping over to a chair, he gently ran his hand over the wood, feeling its texture, the different feel of it. It all seemed so…foreign. The only thing that didn't seem foreign was the sound of footsteps languidly approaching the door. Looking around frantically, lest he got caught (for he wasn't supposed to be out and about at this time of night), he quickly went over to a closet door, peering out through a crack, heart in his throat as he watched.

Whispers were heard as the footsteps entered the room. Closing the door, one of them hurried over to the fireplace, starting up a warm and enticing fire before heading off to where one of the other footsteps headed. Blinking against the darkness, Legolas waited for his eyes to adjust, remaining frozen in place. He didn't know these two…what were they doing here? He had _never_ seen these people around the palace. What unnerved him even more was the fact that he noticed by the way their bodies slumped in the furniture around them, that they weren't elf. That was also a given by the fact he heard them walking around.

The first bit of the conversation he didn't seem to hear, due to his heart beat which had been blocking out any other sort of noise. After a few moments, the child began to calm down enough to heart. After all, wouldn't his father want to hear that unknown people were discussing things in his own home?

_"Forgive me, Master, but I can't help being relieved. I was never happy about the idea of..."_

_"Of poisoning him?"_

_"Yes. Of murder."_

_"Hardly anyone would be happy at that idea, Charles. The question was whether doing that would be worse than the consequences of not doing it. Well, some providence has intervened, and it hasn't happened. I'm only sorry I burdened you with the knowledge of it."_

The elf bit back a gasp, putting his hands to his mouth to keep him from doing anything stupid. Poison? Murder? Who were they going to murder? Surely it wasn't father, right? He didn't do anything to illicit this sort of things. Thoughts racing through his young mind, the elf continued to listen.

_"The Palmerian Professor mentioned a name," he said after a minute or so. "Barnard-Stokes? What is the Barnard-Stokes business?"_

_"Ah, it's not our field, Charles. As I understand it, the Holy Church teaches that there are two worlds: the world of everything we can see and hear and touch, and another world, the spiritual world of heaven and hell. Barnard and Stokes were two - how shall I put it - renegade theologians who postulated the existence of numerous other worlds like this one, neither heaven nor hell, but material and sinful. They are there, close by, but invisible and unreachable. The Holy Church naturally disapproved of this abominable heresy, and Barnard and Stokes were silenced."_

_"But unfortunately for the Magisterium there seem to be sound mathematical arguments for this other-world theory. I have never followed them myself, but the Cassington Scholar tells me that they are sound."_

_"And now Lord Asriel has taken a picture of one of these other worlds," the Librarian said. "And we have funded him to go and look for it. I see."_

Risking a chance, Legolas slowly put his hands down, moving to part the curtain ever so slightly, allowing him to see more of the room and the occupants. Unfortunately, it was all in vain. The room was dark, and the men's backs faced the fire. The only thing the elf could see was their outline and the shadows flickering like demons on the floor, twisting around for a chance to break free, it seemed.

Questions continued to pop into the elf's head. Palmerian Professor? Barnard-Stokes? Holy Church? What was this all about? He'd heard of a church, yes, he too believed in the Valar and Eru, but this was something he hadn't heard of. Two worlds? Like being awake and being asleep? Heaven and Hell? What were these places? Also, who was Lord Asriel? Never had he heard of that name. He would have to ask father for sure. Then again…what would father care for some human Lord? He needed to ask _someone!_

"_--- has a part to play in all this, and a major one. The irony is that she must do it all without realizing what she's doing. She can be helped, though, and if my plan with the Tokay had succeeded, she would have been safe for a little longer. I would have liked to spare her a journey to the North. I wish above all things that I were able to explain it to her..."_

_"She wouldn't listen," the Librarian said. "I know her ways only too well. Try to tell her anything serious and she'll half-listen for five minutes and then start fidgeting. Quiz her about it next time and she'll have completely forgotten."_

_"If I talked to her about Dust? You don't think she'd listen to that?"_

_The Librarian made a noise to indicate how unlikely he thought that was._

_"Why on earth should she?" he said. "Why should a distant theological riddle interest a healthy, thoughtless child?" _

_"Because of what she must experience. Part of that includes a great betrayal._

The elf found himself moving farther into the closet, staring out at the door with its small crack. Murder should have been the first thing that alerted him to stay away. It was true that it was frightening him, the fact that someone might die…but…what with all this information that made no sense to his young mind, it was all starting to pile up on him. This was unbelievable, it truly was.

No! Not just unbelievable! It was…

_A dream._

Sitting up quickly, the elf practically threw his blankets off of his body, staring back at his own reflection from the mirror desk across from him. Wide blue eyes continued to quiver back at him, revealing a more than just shaken up. The curtains were pulled back gently, signifying that a maid had come in, filling the small bowl with water to help him wake up, and threw back the curtains to allow the prince to stare out at the sunny day, the light catching the greens of the canopy in an elegant setting.

Yet, for the moment, Legolas had no notion of staring out his window this morning. Scrambling off his bed, he hurried out his door, ignoring the fresh pair of cloths on the desk next to the water pitcher and note that had been silently place only a few hours before by his older brother.

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**A/N #2: Well, I do hope this one was better than the first one that I did, and I hope that whoever is reading this does enjoy it. If you have any questions about anything that I have written in this chapter, feel free to ask. If you have any comments or suggestions about my writing (such as mistakes) feel free to state them or what have you. Reviews are appreciated, seeing as how they help me see whether people actually like my story, although I'm not going to be as high strung about them.**

**Thank you for reading this chapter and hope you read more in the not so distant future (and enjoy them, of course)!**

**- Inwe**


	2. Fantasies and Missing Children

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Two:** Fantasies and missing children.

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

**A/N: **I have a feeling that this is going to be one of those stories that will only come to me from time to time and rarely. No matter. I'm glad that out of the 41 people who read this story (at least the first chapter), one person actually reviewed. It made me unbelievably happy. Especially since this person had read my earlier story! Thank you very much, **Nebelkin**! You have no idea how happy your review made me!

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"You must come, look, Hérion! _Saes_!" late morning and still in his night cloths, the smaller blond figure continued to attempt to drag his elder and painfully aggravating brother away from his room and towards the hallway nearest Legolas's own. Hérion didn't seem too thrilled with the idea of not only being dragged, but with being forced to do something he clearly didn't, and struggled.

"Surely this can wait till later?" he asked, ignoring the hopeless look on his brother's features, opting to glance outside the nearest window for a moment. "Look, Legolas, I need to leave soon. Father has requested my presence to go over some letters. Can't you be patient and till tonight?" No, Hérion wasn't always the cruel and imposing brother he was often described as, his image was usually blown out of proportion when it concerned two certain blue-eyed, younger elves. That was ending soon, however, seeing as Taurnil was soon going to be leaving for a patrol and would be gone for quite a while. Hérion was looking forward to this.

Staring up at his bigger brother, the elf child shook his head quickly before tugging again at his sibling's wrist. "This is important!" what Legolas failed to realize was that when most things were 'important', they generally held no importance to the people (or rather, his family) around him. He wasn't to blame, after all, for the adult mind simply didn't understand the thrills of childhood anymore. It's their fault they let themselves get old, anyhow. Giving in with a grunt, Hérion followed his younger brother, being led to the portrait across from the little ones room. He watched with interest filled green eyes as the portrait was taken down, and slender hands probed at the wall. The interest soon faded to boredom as he looked to the owner of the prodding hands, watching as excitement fell to disbelief and uncertainty. "Well, if you're done with you're little games, I shall leave you to do work that has been put off for far too long."

Legolas didn't hear his brothers parting words for he was too focused on the wall in front of him. What had happened to the door? It was here…it had to be here; he had opened it last night! Sure, the…walls were different, and the picture wasn't there, but…it…it had to be there. It just had too. Dejectedly he placed the picture back on the wall before silently heading into his room and changing into his tunic and leggings. His eyes didn't understand what was going on at all. What he felt wasn't a dream. It couldn't be! Thoughts continued to swirl in his young mind, a determined pout filling his fair elven features as he opened his door and walked purposefully to the wall. He was going to prove Hérion wrong! The thing was there! It had to be!

He would surely show his family that he wasn't lying, and that this place existed. What better way to find a way back there and bring back something from that place; something that had never been in the Mirkwood palace before.

* * *

Lyra Belacqua was a notoriously mischievous little girl, and by little, that is no understatement. Shorter than most girls, yet stronger in spirit, Lyra had much to think about. Thanks to her small size, she had been able to listen into the meeting her Uncle, Lord Asriel, had attended. From there, her and her daemon Pantalaimon (although the latter did so unwillingly) learned many a strange thing, such as Dust. Of course, she was never really given a thorough explanation of Dust, only that it was important, and that she wanted, no…_desired_ to learn more of it.

Information, however, would have to come to the young girl at a much later date, considering the newer epidemic at hand. Gobblers were their name, and their profession was to steal children. It was this new discovery that allowed Lyra and her companion Roger (a servant boy who worked in the kitchens of Jordan), along with their Dæmons, to search out the very creatures that seemed to plague them. Their initial search turned to something entire different when they had discovered for themselves the catacombs under Jordan. The two were enraptured by all there was to see in the area, the two kid's minds off of the Gobblers.

"Whaddya think they are?" asked Roger one day, staring intently at the plaque that listed two names, a year, and a slogan underneath. Lyra too looked intently at it, her sharp blue eyes twinkling brightly. "They look like graves," she finally whispered, her soft voice seeming to echo in the vault around her as the two continued to peer. Turning to look at one another, the children grinned and turned, moving off to other parts of the dark room, checking out coffins and looking at the skeletons of the people that once inhabited them.

Pantalaimon fluttered on Lyra's shoulder, flexing his soft moth wings, eyes darting around. A shiver escaped him, a feeling of unease rolled through his small body. It could, of course, have been the fact that they were down there among dead bodies, yet…something just didn't seem right. Apparently Rogers's dæmon seemed to share the same uneasy feeling, his terrier tail seemed slumped for the moment. The two weren't sure of what exactly was going on, but it wasn't pleasant at all.

Turning his attention back to the situation at hand, the dæmon wasn't pleased to see Lyra about to reach into the skull of a Scholar. Fluttering wildly in her ear, he waited for her to set it back down to it's original spot, replacing the object before keeping down to her shoulder once more. The girl moved her hand to her shoulder, allowing the small creature to crawl onto her hand and eventually get situated on her palm.

"What's the matter, Pan?" asked the girl, slightly irritated over the fact that her dæmon was ruining at lot of her fun at the moment. The creature looked up at her, speaking to her in a high pitched and light voice. "I don't know…I don't like the feeling of this place," came his hesitant response, looking around as if expecting to see something suddenly fall out from the walls.

His expectations were met, however, as something or rather _someone_ fell out from the wall.

* * *

Most of the day had gone by with Legolas's hands greedily feeling at the all in front of him all for naught. Half the day had gone by and he still had not discovered that of which he had the night before. Looking up at the wall accusingly, the elf child broodingly went down the hall, allowing his feet to guide him rather than his mind steering him in an obvious direction. He would have continued had he not crashed into someone. Stumbling back, he put a hand to his head, rubbing a sore spot and looking up, ready to offer an apology. The words were lost on his lips when he found his older brother Taurnil standing there, armed and ready to leave.

The elder elf began to smile yet paused, seeing the look on his younger siblings face. Picking up the child, Taurnil tapped his brother on the nose. "What is wrong, little leaf? What makes you so down hearted? I would hope that it is not for my departure," the blond warrior waited patiently for his brother's response, which was in that of a tight hug around his neck. The elder elf gently patted the little one on his back comfortingly. "I'll be as soon as my work allows me," promised Taurnil, looking at the mess of light golden hair as Legolas buried his face into his brother's shoulder.

He didn't want his brother to leave. Taurnil wouldn't have walked away from him as Hérion did when he had shown the green haired elf the wall. Taurnil would have helped him find it, of that Legolas was sure. After a few moments of silence, Legolas turned to look at his brothers' face. "I found a secret hide out…" he mumbled, eyes going downcast for a moment. Taurnil tilted his head lightly and arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking into an interested smile. "Oh?" Legolas nodded. "It's in a wall." Taurnil's reaction wasn't like Hérion's, and for that Legolas was grateful. Rather than feeling skeptical, Taurnil's expression filled with wonder. "Oh really? You're going to have to show me when I get back. Promise?"

Legolas smiled. "Pinky promise."

Setting the small child down, Taurnil squatted, meeting Legolas at eye level and linking his pink with the child's. "Pinky promise," they both vowed before Taurnil stood up and shouldered his bow. "Why don't you escort me to the border, _tithen las_?" with an exuberant nod, the two began to the door that led outside. Hérion was there, waiting for Taurnil, the two of them nodding to one another. Blank green eyes looked at the elven boy, Taurnil looking out towards the sky. "Legolas," spoke Hérion, glancing at the seemingly oblivious Taurnil before looking back at the elf boy. "Why don't you go wait for me in the garden?"

Biting back any sort of retort, the elf child waved silently to Taurnil, who smiled back before heading to the garden, going over to his favorite tree in the world. The moment he was out of earshot, Hérion turned to Taurnil. "He told you about the wall?"

"That he did…"

"What do you make of it?"

Taurnil sighed, looking down at the floor before back at Hérion. "Nothing more than the over exuberant mind of a child. Hérion let him continued to be a child. Before we know it, he's not going to the be the little elf that depends on us anymore. If not for his sake, do it for _ada._ He was forced to watch us grow up all to quickly…allow him to observe his youngest son in all that childhood and innocence has to offer."

"I'm not going to go along with this farce," muttered the eldest, causing Taurnil to roll his eyes lightly.

"I'm not requesting that you do so. Just be nice to him and try not to gang up on him too much. Heaven forbid you do so and I find out about it when I return." Waving lightly, the elf met up with the patrol he was going with and left the safety of the palace, heading off into the darkness of the forest that surrounded him. Hérion snorted lightly to himself before heading over to the empty garden. "Legolas?"

Legolas didn't hear, however, for he was in some other area, in some other time, staring wide eyed and with shock at two other people who held the same exact expression as they stared right back at him.

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**A/N #2:** So…right as I finished typing this post, I happened to look up and see a mouse run behind my computer desk. I'm currently on my bed, so its not like it worried me or anything…I found it very odd. I've decided to name it parsley for the time being. Its name is parsley. I hope he brings inspiration to me while he stays in my room…until he flee's, that is…

Anyways, seeing as it's twelve o'clock midnight, I'm going to be posting this and heading off to bed. :'3 Once again, I would like to thank **Nebelkin **for the review and for the alert! 3 Love for you! Now, I've said it before and I'll say it again: Reviews are loved and appreciated!

Till next time!

Inwe


	3. Mistaken Identities

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Two:** Mistaken Identities

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

**A/N: (At the bottom, now :'3 )**

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Bright green eyes flashed with worry as Hérion speedily walked around the area. It hadn't even been a few minutes and his little brother. Normally he wouldn't be as worried, but what with the promise he had given his other younger brother, Taurnil, and the fact the trees were eerily silent, if not puzzled and tense. The emotions they seemed to radiate to the wood elf caused the hairs on the back of his neck to prick up, body alert and rigid. Was something here? He wasn't sure. Unable to locate the young prince, he swiftly turned and hurried inside, ready to alert his father.

As he ran, he did not notice the shimmer that rustled in the air gently at his passing.

* * *

The three children silently stared at one another, completely awe-struck by what was going on. Roger was the first to find his voice, fear enveloping his features. His hand reached out, pointing an accusing finger towards the figure on the ground. "GHOST! I knew we shouldn't have come down here!" exclaimed the boy. Lyra, although holding fear, stared at the blond being with interest. He was obviously not from Jordan, or…anywhere around the college, considering his garb and hairstyle. Perhaps he really was a ghost, as Roger claimed. Although the girl had never seen a ghost that didn't look all shiny and completely garbed in white. Curiosity won over fear at the moment with her as she continued to watch the stranger.

Legolas immediately scrambled to his feet, looking wildly around as if attempting to spot the very ghost Roger accused him of being. Not that the elf child knew, really. He just thought the stranger was making a statement. "Where's the ghost? I see naught a trace." He didn't see any ghost. The only strange things here were the two odd looking kids, a dog, and the room he was in.

Lyra finally chose this moment to speak, more puzzled than anything at the moment. "You're the…ghost," she said, uncertainty filling her tone as she watched the bewildered phantom in front of her.

"No I'm not."

"Then what are you?" she asked, feeling a bit huffy. Humans and dæmon couldn't just suddenly appear! Before the stranger could respond, Roger grabbed Lyra's arm and pulled her behind him in a valiant sort of maneuver. Lyra gave a scowl to her friend at the notion. She didn't need to be protected!

"I know what he is," began the boy, trying to keep up a brave façade in the face of the adversary in front of him. "He's one of them Gobblers, an he's come to get us."

The elf took great offense to this. Not only because the boy in front of him was treating him as if he were some sort of enemy, but also for the fact he called him a Gobbler. He didn't know what a Gobbler was, but he could tell it wasn't exactly a good title, judging by the way these two watched him fearfully and distrustfully. Even the dog seemed to whimper slightly, her body tensing as if ready to attack or go after him should he do anything wrong.

"No. I'm no ghost, nor am I a 'Gobbler'. I'm an elf," he protested, offense clearly in his voice. These two weren't listening to him at all.

Roger watched him skeptically, not trusting him. "If you're no Gobbler, then prove it!"

This was something Legolas couldn't prove, and the answer was plain on his features. It was the young Lyra who saved him from answering such a question. "Dust!"

Both boys looked quizzically at her, Legolas glancing around as if to see the dust in which she was speaking of. A few seconds of mutual respect passed through the two boys as they looked to Lyra. "Dust?" The question would go unanswered (at least for one of the boys) as Lyra waved it off and strode purposefully over to the elf and held out her hand. "My name is Lyra Belacqua. The dæmon on my shoulder is named Pantalaimon. You can call him Pan for short, though," she told him, giving him a wide grin. With a sharp jab to the ribs from the girl, Roger introduced himself (albeit with a grumble) and his dæmon.

"My name is Legolas Thr---," the elf paused slightly. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to state who he really was. His ada and siblings were always telling him to be careful when around strangers. He would play it safe, for now. "Legolas Greenleaf," it was at that moment when Pantalaimon decided to change form, going from moth to ermine in a matter of moments. The elf child leapt back, staring wide-eyed at the being. "What is that?!"

Lyra and Roger looked from the elf (whatever that was, for they still did not know), to Pan. "I told you," responded Lyra, petting Pan on the head. "Pan. Now, where's your dæmon?"

Legolas shook his head, looking slightly distrustfully at the creature. There was some sort of magic at work here, for an animal to change shape. "I don't have one. I've never heard of one…until now, that is."

Now it was Lyra and Rogers turn to look with surprise on the fair elven child. "Everyone has a dæmon," murmured Lyra, looking with distrust at the elf in front of her, who returned the look, although with much more reason. It was apparent they were all on edge by the way they stood guarded. That would soon fade, however, as they continued to talk during their time at the crypt.

Time seemed to tick away endlessly, all three children sitting in a triangle formation on the ground, speaking with soft tones, as if afraid the spirits of those around them would attempt to listen in and report to the underworld from where they lived the on goings on the realm of the living. The two dæmon remained by their human companions, speaking when they thought necessary (much to Legolas's surprise-turned delight. He had always wanted a pet, not only to be able to keep one, but to speak to one as well and have it respond!).

"So, in your home, you don't have cars or lights or, or airplanes?!"

Legolas shook his head, having been used to being asked such odd questions from these two now. " No…at least, I don't think so. I've never heard of them before. Lights, we have. Lanterns and candles and stuff…sometimes Mithrandir will light his staff, but that is all."

"Mith-who? …Staff?! You have magic in your home?! You must come from a book!" exclaimed Roger, standing up with excitement, nearly knocking over a candle stick in the process.

Lyra shook her head at this, giving Roger a slight huff, her expression being that of 'you're-so-weird-if-you-think-he-came-from-a-book.' "No. He came from another world. From Dust." At this, Legolas stood, dusting himself off and looking at her oddly. Why would she think that? About to ask, he stopped and looked to the stairwell, remaining frozen for a moment before exhaling slowly.

"What?"

"I heard someone coming…sorry. Anyways…if we know where I'm from, and this isn't a place near my home…how do I get back?"

At this, Lyra stood as well, putting her fingers to her chin in thought before looking from Roger to Legolas. "We're going to have to ask my Uncle." "Did you forget already that your Uncle has left and won't be back for a while?" asked Pantalaimon, giving a stern look to the blond girl, perching gently on her shoulder.

"Well, we'll just have to find him. Or, send him a letter. Until then, we're just going to have to take Legolas with us, won't we?" without warning, she grabbed the blond elf's hand before heading up the stairs, Roger following right behind up the stairs. Leaving the crypt, they (Roger and Lyra, rather) moved with purpose, turning to go down a hallway (dragging along a curious and wide-eyed Legolas)…

…at least… they tried, until they were stopped by a voice….

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** Well, another chapter down. This one is longer than the others for the dialogue…I sort of just stopped and skipped ahead as well. I'm sure those kiddies had loads to talk about, I just didn't have the energy to type it all. Ugh. Anyways, I would like to thank the ever so lovely **Nebelkind **for the wonderful review! If not for her, I'd probably be too down to update. C'mon, people! I don't know if you like my story or what! If you like it, just say so, kay? I don't bite, and it helps me immensely (puts me in a writing mood, and doesn't leave me doubting my writing style as much). Even if you don't like it, just say so! (So long as you tell me why you don't like it…)

I know you're out there, people!

Anyways, R&R, they make me giggle with joy~

- Inwe (the authoress who never shuts up in her Authors Notes…)


	4. Name Changes and Unhappy Decisions

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Four:** Name Changes and Unhappy Decisions

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

**A/N: (At the bottom, now :'3 )**

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Intercessor stood, waiting for the three children who looked at one another, stunned as to what they should do. Hearing him call Lyra's name again, the three children hesitantly headed over, Legolas more or less trying to mentally shrink himself down to the size of a hobbit or…heaven forbid, a _dwarf_, so as to escape the critical eye of the strange man. Roger leaned over to whisper to Legolas. "This man is Father Heyst, head of the church…you know what that is?' upon receiving a pointed glare, he continued. "Just…try to keep quiet, I guess…"

Legolas didn't need _him_ telling him that. Really. Did the kid _look_ like an idiot? Being Prince, he had probably received more of an education than Roger had, although this was information the elf would keep privy to everyone but himself. Or…at least try to.

When the children had stopped, the priest looked down at them with a light expression, more or less addressing the girl. "What have you been up to, child? I've have seen you come and go from that door a few times now,"

Lyra looked up at the man obediently. "We…were just looking around…under the college at the – uh- coffins," came her response, glancing over at the fathers' lizard dæmon before back at the man. She still couldn't believe that she was hanging around someone who didn't have a dæmon. That was just too bizarre.

When the man continued to ask her questions as to her reasons, the girl shrugged. She didn't have a true answer to give him…not one in which she wanted to actually give him, anyways. Shrugging was her best response, and she was rather good at it, although her gentle rub offs led to the attention of Roger and her newly acquainted friend from another world.

"And you two, what are your names?"

It was at this Roger and Legolas met eyes, not sure what to do. "Uh…Roger father," came the boy, looking nervously at Lyra who…well…shrugged. Father Heyst gave a pointed look to the blond, not exactly cold, yet questioning. "And you, boy?"

The elf met the man in the eyes, blinking a few times before opening his mouth to speak. Luckily, Roger beat him to it. "Th-this is Len, sir," came the hesitant response, Legolas nodding the affirmative. He would have to ask Roger about that. Len? What sort of name was that? Well…it didn't stand out so much as Legolas…at least in this world.

"I assume that's short for Leonard, my son?" the elf nodded silently, not willing to disobey whatever was being said. Upon receiving a sharp nudge in his ribs, he added. 'Yes, father."

"Am I right to say you two are servants?" With a nod from Roger to confirm that (followed by one from Legolas), the man continued. "Where do you work?"

"Kitchen," stated Roger, having to put up with the talking considering Legolas had no idea what he should say. Thank goodness there was someone here who could cover for him. Moving his deep blue eyes from the plump man in front of him, he stared at Lyra with confusion before his hand flew up to his ears, undoing the single braid that held his hair and covered the points with his golden hair. Receiving a thumbs up from the girl, he turned his attention back to Father Heyst, who was grilling out Roger.

"Then I suggest you be off," came the plump man. Roger wasn't going to be the one to go against him. Grabbing Legolas's wrist, he turned, darting down the hall and out of sight, heading towards the kitchen and far from Lyra. When they were far enough, the two stopped, looking over their shoulders before back at one another.

Small smiles grew on their lips before the two burst out into laughing. "Len?" "It was the only thing I can come up with. Legolas isn't exactly normal." "Neither is dignity for you, is it? You took off like a fox in pursuit of a rabbit," finally calming down, the two stood, Roger looking uneasily down the hall once more. "I suppose we should head to the kitchen, then…although…"

"What?"

"The kitchen staff'll know you don't work there, besides," he continued, giving the elf a once over, who merely cocked his head to the side gently in question. "You stick out like a sore thumb. Let's go get you into something that'll fit around here and…make you stand out less."

Legolas didn't at all like where this was going, considering the look Roger was giving him. He couldn't, however, just say 'no'. Not complying meant going home. Going home meant having to be made fun of by Hérion, left alone by his father, and be utterly bored. He didn't want that. Not yet. Following after Roger, he was led to an unanticipated doom.

* * *

After her little conversation with Father Heyst, Lyra turned and shuffled away from the large building, willing to put as much distance possible between her and the conversation she had just had. Pah. What did Father Heyst knew? Children like her? 'Nobly born'? She didn't need any of the hoity toity people the Father wanted her to associate with. Roger was a fine friend, as were many of the others in the streets! Not only that, but she had made an interesting new friend just that day!

She would have loved to see the expression on his face if she had told him that someone had popped out and suddenly appeared right there among a whole bunch of dead people. If only she knew what sort of person Legolas had been. Then again, maybe it was for the best, for her opinion of the odd-elf -from –another- land –without- a –daemon might have changed for the worst.

Done with being inside for the time being, the girl headed outside, walking with an easy pace. It soon ended, however, when the sound of her name came from behind her. Or…at least that's what she thought. It was rather soft and she began to doubt she even heard it. Stopping, she addressed her dæmon, "Pantalaimon? Did you say my name?" Upon receiving a no, she shrugged and moved to continue, only to hear her name once more (albeit more prominent than before), and stopped.

"Lyra, it's me!"

Turning to look, she stopped when she saw a seemingly unfamiliar figure wearing average, everyday, normal clothing. "…Legolas?"

Receiving a nod, her jaw dropped. "Wh-what happened to you?!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N:** Sorry for the long Hiatus. I recently started college (second semester at a new school), and I now have virtually no time. I might be getting a job as well…I really should work on this. My inspiration is returning! Huzzah! Once again, thanks to **Nebelkin** for being my best and favorite reviewer! And a thanks to** Hukrasoar** for adding it to their favorites! Now I know for certain more than one person is keeping up with it.

IT GIVES ME HOPE, YO.

Till the next upload!

- Inwe


	5. Horrible Truths

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Five:** Horrible Truths

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

"Roger had a pair of scissors," came the glum response of the very shy and obviously embarrassed figure as he attempted to hide himself from around the corner of a building. He had protested to Rogers idea the moment the brunette rounded on him with the inevitably sharp pair of mini pliers and a look on his face that said he was more than proud of having coming up with this particular plan all on his own. The servant boy didn't need Lyra to come up with all the ideas all the time.

The two boys had fought, that much was obvious due to the black eye Roger now sported and the cut on the elven boys cheek. They booth soon realized fighting with sharp objects in someone's hand wasn't the smartest, no matter how stunningly skilled Legolas seemed to have been in fighting. Then again, taking lessons from a master swordsman (lessons for the young, yes, but they were indeed lessons) didn't seem to match up quit to par to street smart fighting. Hence why Roger was now parading somewhere within Jordan like a proud rooster having accomplished the inevitable: cutting Legolas's hair.

Legolas, on the other hand, was ashamed of himself for both losing the fight and losing his hair. He had tried to tell the other boy that getting his hair cut meant death and torment from his family. Fighting against a pair of sharpened metal was a lot less scary then the possibility of being trapped her, or, even worse: going home with short hair. No, not all of his hair was short. He needed his hair slightly longer in the front to hide his delicately pointed ears, but that didn't amount to much when it only reached chin level for the elf. The rest of his hair seemed to end at a parallel length to his lower earlobe.

Lyra, who at this point had been attempting to get a better look at her friend who kept ducking behind the corner whenever she leaned over to get a better looked huffed and stormed over to him, pulling him out into the open (with much struggle, of course). "Now, now, you look just fine, ya see?" she commented to him, groaning in overly childish exasperation as he continued to fight, shaking his head back and forth rapidly. "I think you look fine, Legolas. I mean…you don' look like a girl now."

At this he stopped fighting, giving her a blank stare. "I never looked like a girl."

"Well, sure ya did. But I mean, you fit in now, righ'?" After a few seconds, the platinum blond gave a hesitant nod, looking to her as if asking if he fit in, rather than declaring an affirmative head nod. Inwardly, he was relieved at her supportive nod. Deeper within him, however, he was still dissatisfied with the loss of hair. He hoped it would grow back before he got home. He didn't want to imagine what his father would think of, seeing the man was so keen on the upkeep of tradition. "Now c'mon. I wanna go show you around town!"

The two shared a grin, the both of them obviously excited about the prospect of going out. Releasing hands Lyra opted to put her hands behind her, pointing out interesting (or what she deemed to be interesting) fixtures among the college. The farther they moved away from the place, however, was when things got interesting. Horses, Legolas had seen plenty of, and shared little bits of knowledge he knew with the girl. The objects of transportation changed rapidly and the elf nearly passed out at the sight of his first ever motor vehicle. The entire concept of the thing confused him and it was almost better if he attempted to block out whatever it was than to understand.

What the two of them didn't realize was that there were some things in this world that were far more advanced than his world was used too and it was far too early for anyone in his land to understand- a good thing, too, for they were rather loud when you attempted to get them start and seemed heartless, rather than a living, breathing creature to have as your companion.

Unconsciously, the elf would go to run his hand through his hair, frowning only in habit now when he didn't feel the long tresses anymore. The topic of conversation seemed to slow for the time being as they walked around together, looking at all the street booths and establishments there. "Lyra, are you a princess?"

The girl looked to him, confused as to what he could have meant by that. She took a look at herself: dirty knees, dirty clothes and her hair a frizzy mess."Huh? No? Where'd ya get that idea?"

"Well," began the elf, looking at her curiously, "the father asked if you missed being around other Noble born children. I wanted to…know if you were a Princess."

The girl laughed, causing him to blush lightly in embarrassment. "No, I en't a princess, silly! Don't worry. My Uncle Asriel is rich and he took me in. That's all. I don't care about hangin' round rich kids like they want me," she pulled a face at that, sticking her tongue out and stomping her feet like some sort odd animal hybrid. Pantalaemon also hissed, feeling the irritation that Lyra felt before the girl smiled reassuringly and started off again, leaving the elf alone for a moment to ponder to himself before shaking his head and hurrying off.

If she didn't like noble children then that was okay…he wouldn't be a noble child around her. He'd be himself. He didn't like keeping secrets from those he liked…but if it was necessary then he would have to live with that ideal.

x –

Just when all the ideas of Gobblers being in Oxford had run out, news ran around about a child going missing. Not only that, but it was about someone young Lyra knew. Seating along a slight wooden out posting, the young girl and towns children she had befriended all watched the bustling of the town. Legolas, escaping the smell and the horrible gut churning feeling he got when around the object called a cigarette was a few paces away, looking at the boats with interest and the sea with wide excited eyes. His ears picked up snippets of conversation from the other group of children while the rest of him focused on the odd world around him. The smell of horses, sweat, and the water filled him with elation, enough to lull him into a false sense of security.

Until a woman with a blow horn for vocal chords bellowed, distracting him and nearly making him fall into the water. Level himself out he looked over to where the ruckus was being held before returning back to Lyra. Not having yet been…initiated among the other more 'hard core' youths he was content to stay far from them, watching as one of the boys picked up a rock, obviously ready for a fight to break out. The girl stopped him before he did anything, thus proving to the elf still how odd things were around here. Never had he met such…'battle ready' people.

"Where is he? Where'd my boy go?" demanded the dark skinned woman, ready to lay a beating on a man who protested against her, telling her just what she _didn't_ want to hear: Idunno! He wasn't holding my horse when I returned. Lazy sod musta run off in the middle of the job."

Wrong answer, and a good portion of the children along the fence line winced as the woman lay a beating into the man. "What happened?" asked the girl, speaking to an egiptian child who was lingering nearby, also watching what happened.

"Her son Billy got took'd by them Gobblers. At least, that's what we 'cpect."

At this, the foreign elf and human girl shared a glance to one another. The servant boy, the noble girl, and the angel like creature that Legolas was agreed that he was the farthest thing from a Gobbler, although Lyra and Roger did like to pretend that the pretty elf was a Gobbler not yet. It was a lot more fun to play when your enemy looked as friendly as possible until you found out they were horrible baby killers. Legolas never really liked that game and often sat down and ignored the other two until they got bored and switched to another game, including him all three of them forgot he was mad at them.

It wasn't long before other children seemed to arrive, all with smug faces. Lyra, accepting the silent challenge threw the butt of the horrible object down into the ground and stood at the ready. The dæmon of the children were also ready, morphing into the closest thing that could induce 'fear' in anyone, jumping, squawking, growling and hissing.

Yet, before _anything_ could happen, the dark skinned woman (who was called Ma Costa by the locals, it seemed) came over to Lyra.

"_You seen him?" she demanded of Lyra. "You seen Billy?"_

Lyra shook her head. "We en't seen Billy for a good while now," informed the young girl, her eyes uneasily going to the woman's bird dæmon in the sky, watching as it continuously scanned the air for the missing boy. The woman, fear struck for her child stumbled off, still bellowing for her boy, not noticing the silent truce she left in her wake among the children.

"Was it them?" asked one of the kids. "Was it one of them Gobblers?" a murmur of fear ran through each child as they looked to one another, half expecting some demon to pop up out of nowhere. Legolas, envisioning a Goblin, Orc, or Spider shivered before shaking his head. This was a different world. Those creatures didn't exist here…right? Well, if he had made it here…

Reaching out hesitantly to the girl, his hand was slapped away for the time being, a look of silent frustration passing over his face before it settled to uncertainty in which he downcast his eyes to the ground. Let them talk. He would be able to speak with Lyra later about the Goblins.

Of course, plans changed and the more the children talked about the Gobblers, the more they were intent to look for them. A white truck. Rumor among the group said they were in a white truck. Only one person had 'seen' them, but it was better than nothing, right? Each child soon took off, partly in sport and in game, partly serious. Of course, they stayed in groups, not wanting to get separated and 'eated up' by the Gobblers that roamed the vicinity. Or supposedly did.

"Bet they probably won't be comin' here," Lyra mentioned to a certain boy named Simon Parslow as himself, 'Len' (as all the children halfheartedly called Legolas, not really knowing the boy and fully keen on welcoming him just yet), and Lyra walked around the area, losing more and more hope as they simultaneously lost the light from the sun.

"S'pose not," muttered Simon, looking among the two before adding, "but Jessie Reynolds from the market went missin' yesterday."

Lyra stopped, causing the other two to as well, looking at her quizzically. "How come I never heard 'bout that?" She called to him, stomping her foot on the ground and putting her hand on her hips squarely.

"Was only yesterday!" informed Simon in defense of himself, holding his hands up as if trying to block the verbal rocks that were being flung at him. "She could've come back by now. You don' know."

"Well neither do you!"

A small scuffle was on the verge of starting before a voice called out to Lyra, telling her she was to come inside.

Fat chance of that happening. To show her indignation to the woman, Lyra quickly grabbed Legolas's hand and sped off with him, telling Simon that they would meet up later. Laughing, the two came to a stop, leaning over and breathing heavily. "She en't gonna catch us," the girl muttered between breaths.

"I just hope Roger finds us," replied the elf, catching his breath and leaning against the wall of a building. Sure, Legolas liked Lyra and he liked her friends but…it was obvious they knew something was off about him and didn't …trust him as well as they did Lyra. They found he was too weird and he found they were too loud and needed to wash up and brush their teeth. Maybe if they cleaned up better they'd lose the weird slur in their speech like they had something constantly stuck in their mouth.

After a few seconds the two sat down on the ground, playing with the dirt on the ground before the young girl spoke up. "Where _is_ Roger? How come he en't here yet?"

"I don't know…he said he'd be out later…he had to do floor scrubbing," an activity in which the elf understood. Thank heavens Roger wasn't an engineer or anything of the silly sort.

"Well it's later," pouted Lyra, sitting there innocently before a sense of dread filled the two. It was unlike Roger to be _this_ late. Sure, he missed out on stuff but the kitchen staff generally let him out when he finished his scheduled cleaning. The two slowly looked up at one another, springing to their feet immediately. They had been so caught up with the discussion that they didn't bother to think…

Immediately the two began to ran, not needing to share any form of information. "I'll go check around the school," assurd the elf, turning and beginning his search around the gardens. The tree's here, he found, were lonely and more than willing to talk. At night, when he felt out of place and completely alone he would sit at Lyra's window and listen to the whisper of the tree's. Maybe they would know Roger and help them. Lyra, meanwhile, ran into the school like a terror and into the kitchens.

"Where's Roger?" she demanded fearfully, her eyes darting around in anticipation as the color drained from her face when she didn't see her treasured friend.

"Haven't seen 'em. And boy is he gonna be in trouble, too -" started one of the servants who was soon cut off as the girl immediately left the vicinity, effectively knocking over a stack of silver plates and letting them crash to the ground, ignoring the angry yells that followed her out the door.

She ran. The girl ran as fast as her legs could carry her, Pantalaimon not two steps behind her as they ran up the stairs and into her room. Dragging a chair to the window she clambered out and stood ontop of the roof, screaming her lungs out in anguish and despair before sinking into a sitting position. Pantalaimon too rose up a lot of noise, turning into a bird and circling, his and Lyra's pain one and the same. Silence followed after that and time passed as the girl sat up there, staring bleakly out at the sky.

Legolas, having achieved nothing and heard the scream waited momentarily, feeling guilty. Roger couldn't be gone. They would…they would find him. They'd just have to have hope is all. If that meant he needed to have hope enough for the both of them, then he would. That was what his race represented, right? A form of Hope. A beacon of light in the darkness. Maneuvering easily, the young elf scaled the building (for it was far easier to climb this type of building than his own home) and silently moved over to Lyra, sitting next to her and wrapping his arms around her after a moment in a companionable hug.

"We'll find him, Lyra. A si i-Dhuath ú-orthor." Murmured the elf as the girl relented into his hug before hugging him back. The moment of peace was disrupted and the elf let go gently. "Someone comes," he whispered to her before crawling a few paces off, out of the line of sight of anyone there.

"Lyra! Lyra, you get over here right now." Mrs. Lonsdale, the Housekeeper beckoned. Lyra, still staring out whispered to her elven friend. "It'll be dangerous, but we'll get him back. We can't let them eat him or nothin'." After a few moments the girl slid down and soon found herself entering the window, leaving her elven friend alone once more. After she found out whatever the noisy lady wanted, they would all talk in her bedroom. Her, Legolas, and Pantalaimon.

A/N: I feel this started off with promise before dwindling. I was hit with massive writing inspiration but…the more I seemed to type this, the harder time I had getting stuff out. I hope it's just my laryngitis and not my creativity.

**I'm going to be making a mini series about Legolas and Aragorn when they're younger, not at all related to this if anyone is interested. For now, I'm simply going to rest.**

**R&R if you so desire. I love hearing from people.**

**And I'm sorry it took…yikes, a year to update. Please don't hate me D8**

**Inwe**

**Oh, and I give thanks to those who had reviewed my story and still seem eager for more. I don't remember who it is and I'm too tired to look, but it means a lot 33 Much love to you.**


	6. Of Elves and Dæmon

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Six:** Of Elves and Dæmon

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

**A/N #1: **Guess who got a reoccurring case of tendonitis in her knee as well as strained her meniscus while on vacation at Disney World? This girl, right here. Thus, I'm stuck at home when I'm not working, and lying around doing nothing. Well...not doing _nothing_, exactly, for I'm going to be trying to update the POOP out of this.

The night was cool as a gentle breeze blew over the rooftops and through open windows. It was nearing winter, a slight chill creeping through the wind as it moved. Sitting cross-legged, Legolas stared up into the sky, breathing in deeply and resisting the urge to shudder at the air around him. This certainly wasn't home. The air was not clean, the skies were not clear, and no stars seemed to exist past the murky clouds that hovered over the city. To be certain, they truthfully _weren't_ clouds, but frankly, the young elf was in the wrong place, let alone _era _to understand smog. No, this was not home, and the realization of this only seemed to further impact him in his solace. To say he missed the trees was an understatement. To hear their voices and their kind whisperings and words of encouragement was something that was deeply missed. Sure, they had trees here on the Oxford campus (whatever that really was. All he really understood was that they were a cluster of buildings (homes?) with bossy people and others who considered themselves a higher class), but they were nothing like the trees at home.

He would teach them to speak, over time. They were slowly opening up to him. The young elf only hoped that they would be able to do so quickly so they could inform him of what had happened to Roger.

Roger...

The elf stood up from his spot on the roof, barely sparing a glance to the ground below as he deftly clambered down, trusting his hands and feet to lead him down a safe path from the walls of the college. Scale down one building, you've scaled them all. Not that the palace of the Elven-King was even close to being as easy to maneuver down as this place was, the things Legolas had learned concerning sneaking away came in handy in times such as these. Taking a careful look around from within the shadow of the building, he silently lept off, boots barely making a sound on the wet pavement below as he pulled up the hood to the jacket Roger had lent him and followed the road down. The lights from the lanterns on the road did little to illuminate the figures on the road, in a vehicle or otherwise.

However, all eyes seemed to attract to a gleaming white car that was parked in front of the place, a driver helping out someone from the backseat. Despite the lack of true lighting, it didn't take much for bright blue eyes to pick out certain traits. The expensive looking coat, the glimmer of jewels on the person hand, and, more specifically, the golden creature that deftly moved on the white coated person and rested on their shoulder. Legolas had been here long enough to identify this creature as a dæmon and most certainly _not_ a pet of any kind.

Was there a difference? Besides the talking, Legolas seemed to think there wasn't anything else that was classified as 'special' about these creatures. Not that that didn't stop him from needing to find one as well. It was highly suspicious to _not_ have one, as he was soon learning in his few days spent here.

As far as dæmon's went, this one left the others something to be desired. With it's shimmering golden coat and it's bright eyes, the elf stared, mesmerized by it. His feet moved slowly toward it, lured in by the creature as any other child would be. All too suddenly the feeling abandoned him as the creature in question turned to look at him, freezing the elf in his tracks and causing his blood to run cold. Never had a fear struck him so deep before and a slight shiver ran through his body. The hooded figure looked over at him as well before slowly making their way over. Slowly, the white hood fell from the persons head as their hands moved to lower it and she crouched a safe distance away from the elf whose hood remained up. A warm smile touched her ruby lips as she looked at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, her voice smooth as silk and loving as a parent. Upon receiving no response, she tiled her head lightly, her soft black hair brushing her cheek as she moved, looking to the golden monkey on her shoulder. "He didn't scare you, did he? He's a little wary of strangers..." As if on cue, the creature moved down her arm and stood behind her, her hand reaching out to absently stroke his soft fur, her eyes watching as the uneasiness left the child in front of her, slowly but surely. "Come now, there's no need to be afraid, dear. If you bring out your dæmon, i'm sure they'll come to be good friends." Still, she received no response, although it did not pass her notice that he continued to look at her dæmon with an immense amount of interest. They always did.

A few more moments passed before she took a few steps forward, the creature following behind her. Still offering a warm smile to the hooded boy, the dark haired woman crouched down. "What's your name, boy?"

"Len..."

Her smile grew warmer and her eyes seemed to brighten at this. "Hello, Len," she said warmly, still watching him watch her dæmon. "Do your parents know you are out?" It was slight, but the hesitation did not go unnoticed, although she refrained from doing anything on it as he finally shook his head. "I see. You know, Len, it's not safe to be traveling about at night. I'm sure your parents are very worried about you." Immediately, bright blue eyes met hers and the woman had to refrain from a gasp as their eyes connected. Wide, innocent, _deep_ eyes seemed to bore to her and she was momentarily stunned, probably appearing just as entranced as the boy had been about her beloved golden dæmon. With a blink, the spell was over and she remembered who she was.

"Where do you live, Len? I'm sure I have enough time to escort you back to your family."

"In the.." what had Lyra continually called it again? Oh! "The college, Milady," came an immediate response from her, the boys voice soft and light, causing the woman to blink, momentarily stunned. Certainly not the sort of wording she had expected from a place like this. He didn't appear to be from any outstanding family, judging by his clothing, yet...well...his bearing seemed to tell another story. Nevermind. If he was from the college, she was sure to find out more.

With a smile, she gently moved her head, the monkey slowly coming out from behind her and moving to stand in front of the boy. "Do you like him, Len?" she asked, causing his eyes to move from her and back to the creature, nodding slowly before becoming more official. Her smile grew as he crouched down as well to the creature, reaching into his pocket for a piece of bread Lyra had given him earlier in the day while they had been moving about with the other children from the town. With a look to the woman, the monkey slowly moved it's hand, making sure not to make contact with the boy and waited for him to drop the piece of bread. As Legolas did so, something highly unexpected happened.

He began to pet her dæmon.

Both the creature and the mortal froze, the woman's throat tightening and her chest constricting as she watched in horror. The creature froze in shock as well, it's skin almost rippling under Legolas's features. The elf noticed the stiffness and stillness and looked up, retracting his hand slowly. "Milady...are you well?" he finally asked her, concern lacing his voice.

As if on cue, the woman snapped out of it and slowly stood, looking down at him with an unnerving wonder. "Yes, dear...yes, I am well." The smile she offered him wasn't as strong as before, yet it seemed to work for the guilt that had flashed through the boy seemed to have ebbed away.

"Mrs. Coulter?"

A voice from the doorway grabbed their attention and the dark haired woman in question held out her hand, her dæmon using it as a stepping pad and climbing up gracefully onto her shoulder. "I will be there in just a moment." The soothing allure in her voice was back as she looked back at the young man she had been speaking with. "It was lovely meeting you, Len. I do hope to see you again soon." With her customary smile in place, she pat the boy on the head, her gloved hand meeting the material of his hood before she elegantly walked away.

As elegant as any mortal _could_ walk, at any rate.

"Mrs. Coulter is lovely, en't she, Pan?!

Lyra was practically jumping up and down on the bed in excitement as her dæmon chirped above her, flying around in circles like a canary hopped up on one too many sugar stalks. Legolas, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor near the bed, trying to calm down a small bird in his hands that he had found on the side of the road, it's wing broken. He had a compilation of strips of cloth (kindly donated by Lyra, not so kindly given up by her clothing's standards) and sticks of varying size and thickness in an attempt to make a makeshift splint. This certainly wasn't the first time he had done something like this, and he would make sure that it wouldn't be the last.

"Ya shouldda seen her, Legolas! Her eyes were so pretty and her lips were bright, _bright_ cherry red that made her look so fancy and she was smarter than all the other boring college ladies 'ere. Oh, oh! And her dæmon! He looked so soft, and his fur shone so brightly!" With an exuberant thump, the young girl landed on her stomach, peering over Legolas's shoulder, frowning as he looked over at her and inched to the side slightly to avoid her prying eyes. The battle of her trying to constantly look over his shoulder and he escaping her ended as his shoulder was pressed against the wall and her body awkwardly clambered over the pillows and against the headboard.

"Are you listenin' to me?"

"My apologies...were you saying something?"

With a huff, Lyra flopped onto her back, lifting her legs up and allowing Pantalaimon to perch on her feet, chirping merrily. "You shoulda seen her, Legolas..."

"_Av-'osto, tithen pen. Tullen tye-rehtien."_ (Don't be afraid, little one. I am here to help you.) A slow smile crept on his face as the small creature in his hand lessened it's wiggling, it's eyes blinking and head gently jerking around to get a look at the room. Gingerly, the elf moved the wing and bound it before looking at Lyra. "_Goheno nin_. Who?" (Forgive me).

"...Huh?" Blinking like a sloth, the two held eye contact before she quickly rolled onto her stomach, causing Pan to chirp indignantly before landing on her head, the both of them watching the elf. "Oh! Mrs. Coulter!"

"Oh...I met her, and her...her..."

"Her dæmon?"

"Yes. He's very soft and fluffy."

"_You touched her dæmon_?!"

The elf jolted at this, murmuring apologies before looking at Lyra and the rapid shifting Pantalaimon, his hands moving over the bird in his hands protectively yet retaining his ginger hold. "Yes...I was feeding him some bread and...I just reached out and pet him-"

"You en't s'posed to do that, Legolas! You don't _ever_ touch someone's dæmon!" the young girl yelled at him, obviously very livid with the very thought that he had done such a careless and _forbidden! _He should have known better, to be honest, and the very thought of anyone, let alone the elf touching her dear Pan filled her with such anger and fear. Everyone knew that it was something you didn't do. Touching someone's dæmon was a taboo, as frowned upon as walking over carpet in mud ridden shoes or going to a church man and telling them that God didn't exist.

As taboo as no longer believing in elves or trying to turn them into goblins.

He watched as Lyra's own dæmon took the form of a wolf pup, curling protectively next to her, ears lying back and a whimpering growl escaping his teeth. Legolas slowly stood up, backing up to the wall and looking at the two. "I didn't know," he told her, his tone going to the defensive as he watched her, an almost indignant look flaring in his eyes. He didn't do anything wrong, as far as he was concerned. "I don't _have_ one." he soon told her, an almost haughty look developing in his expression as he watched her. Her reaction was almost satisfactory. Understanding filtered in as her eyes went from his hands to the hurt bird's wing, and back to his arm, almost as if _expecting_ him to be hurt as well. As he showed no signs of pain, however, or even a remote understanding of the sheer _horror_ of what he had done, her look slowly gave way to pity.

This wasn't something he was expecting, and slowly the very Thranduilion look he had been giving also leaked into something akin to uncertainty. It was never a good thing when people gave you _that_ look, as if you had lost something you loved dearly.

Moving back into a sitting position, her hands greedily reached out to Pantalaimon who fully complied, nestling into her lap as her fingers ran through his coarse hair. "I'm sorry, Legolas...I...I forgot."

The apology threw the young elf off guard, his eyebrows knitting together and thumbs gently brushing over the small figure in his hands in a gentle, soothing motion. After a few moments he shrugged and sat back down, one hand moving to wave off the apology as a sign of 'no harm done'. Truthfully, he didn't understand why she was _sorry_. Unless, of course, it was for the outburst, but frankly, the boy didn't think it _really_ had anything to do with that. The sort of sorry she had given him was one that his father had said when he asked where his mother was. Or when he asked his brothers when they might go visit their mother in the 'place beyond Middle Earth'. It had happened so long ago that the elf barely remembered her, but any time the question arose in his mind he was given the fare same sympathetic answer with the very same sad smile and the _very same_ look in their eyes.

Pity.

After a few moments of silence, Lyra huffed – a clear indication that she was searching for _something_ to say, yet ultimately hoping _someone else_ would find it first- before finally speaking. "So...what're you doing?"

"Petting a bird."

The answer alone caused Lyra to stare blankly at her friend who, after a few moments of feeling eyes bore into his shoulder, looked up once more, mild annoyance reflecting in his eyes. He tilted his head in question, his short tresses brushing against his neck as the two held a companionable stare down.

"Why didja bring a bird in here for?" she finally asked, propping her elbows up on her knees and resting her cheeks in her hands, causing her face to pucker slightly and eliciting a musical laugh from her friend on the ground.

"Because she was hurt and all alone...and...well.." looking at the bird, he grew sheepish, yet continued to smile fondly at it. "I was hoping that she would be my friend and pretend to be my dæmon. I'm not as close to birds as my brother is...yet..."

Lyra beamed at this, clapping her hands together happily and causing the dæmon in her lap to give a slight whine of annoyance, pawing at her in an effort to return her arms to their original spot, the urge to practically _melt_ into his human deeply rooted within him at the moment. All this talk of people not having dæmon was very unnerving business, you see.

"I think that's a wonderful idea!" continued Lyra, giving Pan a gentle bop on the head while watching the elf. "You can teach her how to steal shiny things,"

"Or plant seeds in people's food,"

"Or their beds,"

"Or land on their heads,"

"Or go to the bathroom on their coats."

"Or pass letters back and for-...Lyra, that is a very indecent thing to say..."

Laughter bubbled up between the two before immediately hushing, making sure that their noise hadn't been heard by the rest of the house. It was exceptionally late now, and although the need to sleep was slowly creeping up on Lyra, she was far too excited to worry on it too much. Still, as their laughter died down, the elf stood up (carefully, mind you, so as not to frighten the precious animal in his hands) before sitting on the bed next to Lyra, crossing his legs together.

"Mrs. Coulter seemed rather nice when I met her," he mentioned, bringing up the topic of her desire. "I haven't...met very many mortals. My father had warned me about their race, and...while he said not a lot of them were kind...I have yet to meet one that was _unkind._ What happened while you were away?"

Finally! An opening in which she could begin her magnificent storytelling! It wasn't a long story, unfortunately, and she certainly could have dragged it on for a very, very, very, long time, sharing in Mrs. Coulter's adventures and quests she had been on, talking about how _intelligent_ she was and how it's possible that she'd _probably_ know how to find Legolas's home, and has _probably_ been there before (which, admittedly, got the elf a bit excited, too). Of course, she was quick to assure her friend that she didn't say anything about his sudden appearance in the crypt. "Not till I know more. I can't go 'round tellin' her everything at once, although _I'm_ sure she'd be helpful," at this point, Lyra was beside herself with excitement. "That's not even the _best_ part, though," she said, practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

"Mrs. Coulter is offerin' to let me be her assistant and go to the North an' she's going to teach me all sorts of things!"

Legolas stared. "...You're...leaving?"

"Not _now_, silly. Prob'ly in a couple of years. I'll tell you more after breakfast tomorrow," yawned the girl, mildly attempting to impress her friend and ease his worries.

A couple years, however, did not ease the worries of an elf. A couple years was _nothing_. The only time a _couple years_ came into play when settling a matter was over some sort of trade with Lake Town. Legolas hadn't seen the twin sons of Elrond in _a couple years_. That's how short of a time frame that was, in his eyes at least.

"You're going to help me find a way back home before you do...right?" he finally asked her, looking towards her in hopes of finding what he had been looking for: reassurance. Her care-free attitude to the situation helped him relax, his shoulders slowly relaxing away from the hunched position they had taken only moments prior. The look didn't stop the growing pit of uncertainty in his stomach, but for now...visual relaxation would be alright.

Her 'of course' was obstructed by a large yawn, Legolas taking it as a cue to either snuggle into the bed with her and sleep, or exit the room for a rest period. Tonight, however, he opted to go outside for a bit.

"En't you goin' to bed?" asked the girl as she tucked herself in, lifting the covers so Pan could contribute in warming her up, the two of them looking expectantly at him.

"No...I'm going to stay up a bit more. Talk to Caladwen a bit longer and try to see the stars..."

"You're not going to be cold?"

The question in turn caused him to tilt his head gently in response, the beginnings of a mysterious sort of smile lighting his lips before he moved out the window and up onto the roof once more. The girl shrugged in her sheets, her arm draping over Pantalaimon as they both moved to get warm.

"I wonder how Mrs. Coulture's dæmon felt when he touched her."

The two shivered at the idea. "He didn't seem hurt or nothing...or 'fraid or anythin' weird. We can ask him tomorrow."

Unfortunately, it was that night that Lyra had been called into the Master's study while Mrs. Lonsdale packed away the young girls things as quickly as possible.

_It was only after she'd said goodbye to the few servants who were up, and to Mrs. Lonsdale, that she remembered Roger_. (Chapter Four: The Alethiometer)

TBC

**A/N #2 :**

**Nebelkind:** ...Suuurely nearly two years isn't tooo much of a stretch in writing...right? ...aheh. I'm so sorry. OTL – I'll try to be on my best behavior when updating this. .

**Theobsessor:** A Legolas story without archery? That'd be like be updating on time. Something completely unheard of! I'm not sure if you are following this anymore, but if you are, I'll do my best update. I already have plans for Legolas and archer set up for later chapters. c: And ohhohoho, very excellent question. Guess you'll have to stick around and find out!

**Kairan1979:** My thoughts exactly. I also think it might be beneficial to Lyra to have someone who is the complete opposite of her, for I feel both characters could bring out the best in each other.

**Anon:** I'm glad you like it. I honestly had this put aside in some dusty corner of my mind until I saw your review. If you're still around, here you go! c:

**A big thank you** to those who have stuck with this or added this to their watchers list. I know this is probably a very big surprise. Back in '11 I /did/ have a reason for being gone, but then the reason vanished and I had no excuse or reason to put this off, although I did. So, here is to all of those that keep with this, whether they remember or not, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. c: I also apologize for the grammar errors and hope that you bare with me. I don't have Microsoft Word anymore and it's 1:20am, and I'm going to be lazy tonight and submit this without reading over it. The next chapters won't be as horrific...hopefully.

Reviews are appreciated and make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

- Inwe.


	7. Something Special About You

**A Dream Within Words**

**Chapter Seven:** Something Special About You

**Summary:** A young and very imaginative Legolas soon discovers that dreams are not always formed at nighttime, and that even they can seem unbelievably real and just as dangerous than what they are assumed to be.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything or anyone associated with Lord of the Rings, nor with the Golden Compass. I get no profit from making this fan fiction. This is purely fan made. Also, the characters that I have created (meaning the brothers) are mine (duh), and I take great pride in them. If you so desire to borrow them, feel free to ask. - Large quotes by themselves in italics are words taken from the book, simply used for the dream like sequence. Everything else will be improved (to the best of my abilities). Italics with ' shall be thoughts.

x – x – x – x - x – x – x – x - x – x – x – x - x – x – x – x -

Time was ever fleeting. Days were mere moments remembered simply on whims and months were ever falling away-being filtered by mornings and evenings -and simply longer memories or significant snippets of recollection that, like days, passed through the mind like a dream. As Days turned into Months and Months turned into years and time continued onward, these recollective thoughts merely stretched onward and onward until some other memory took it's place. Thinking about time was a long, and time consuming process, near never ending until the person losing themselves within the drift of the mind needed to pull themselves out, less they drown. Now, while months could feel like days and days could feel like seconds and years could feel like months, there was one thing that the being- a visual dismissal of time itself- knew.

A couple of years, she said.

It had not been a couple of years. It hadn't even been a couple of months! A mere couple of days and he still couldn't seem to find her. Her room had been used in the few days that had passed. No one had yelled out her name in aggression as she tore through the halls in a whirlwind of chaos and child like enthusiasm. There were no clothes in the closet that had once housed her few dresses and, at one point, a fox kit. Her shoes weren't thrown precariously around the room, one often in the corner and the other on top of the night stand. There was no indication that _anyone_ had been in that room within the span of a few days. It had been entirely cleaned out with no sense of identity or of who had once belonged to the room, ignoring of course the faded stains of marker on the wall. If it hadn't been for the lack of dust that would have otherwise collected on the floor and various small bits of furniture through the very bleak and plain room, the room would have otherwise been deemed 'unoccupied' for a very large amount of time.

As it was, a few days had only been passed since it had been cleaned out, and the one who had occupied it was nowhere to be found. By anyone, for that matter. The few people that the elf had been brave enough to ask, posing a simple, seemingly innocent question gained him no information. Then again, not that he would dare mention this to anyone, he doubted two people counted when on his journey for information. It was an interesting predicament that weighed heavily on the elf who sat by the murky bank of the canal basin where Lyra had gotten into battles with the 'Gyptians that lived there and where the two mortals showed the rather pristine and 'right and proper' elf all the joys of mud wrestling. Or...attempted to, until the elf climbed atop a nearby shack to escape the stinking clay and filthy water.

A couple of years, she said.

His father had mentioned to him the passage of time. How human traders came and went and then new ones came and went. The cycle that continued to run through the blood of men and cutting them off before they could possibly come to a solution that they might have been striving to achieve. '_Mortals barely amount to much. It's when they amount to something that one should be worried, for that something is heavy, and dangerous, and often dark.'_ It wasn't unreasonable, the reason the young elf had been kept from the race. It was easier for a human to harm an elf than it was for them to help. To get close would mean pain, something the Elven-King did not wish his son to know. The stories he had told of mortals hadn't been cruel or all too dark...but they hadn't been warm and welcoming. For Legolas, he knew in order to find a way back home, he needed to rely on someone. _Befriend _ or even believe in someone. Listen to them and accept their words as truths.

A couple of years, she said.

Time may be fast moving, but even he knew that two years did not pass in a mere couple of days. Why, then, was she gone? Pulling his legs up to his chest to keep it feet from daring closer to the waters edge, the elf wrapped his arms around his legs and gently placed his chin on his knees, eyes staring ahead at the water yet unseeing. Perhaps she had been taken by the Gobblers. As horrifying as the thought was, it felt less painful than being betrayed. Her and Roger could be reunited and bust out of whatever problem came at them with full force before returning to the elf. Hopefully with proclamations that they knew how to return him home.

What would have been a gentle sigh that would have escaped his lips stopped immediately. Footfalls- no matter how silent and sneaky they might have been trying to be- caught his ears and he tensed. His right arm slowly dropped down to his side, sliding down to the dirt ground below him, hands searching about the ground about him. The substance beneath him filtered through his fingers like sand, filling the elf with anxiety. The footfalls were loud on his ears, coming closer and closer until finally they stopped, not too far behind him. The soft crunch of dirt underneath a heavy boot and an even heavier body indicating a grind, side to side. Then, the tell-tale signs of the boot leaving the ground, the footfall coming in slowly.

The foot fell and lifted again in that slow, measured pace, and Legolas turned to his right and ran. A few steps in he turned to glance back to the perpetrator, tanned face holding a look of shock. The elf would have laughed had he not turned and ran into a wall of solid flesh, causing him to be thrown to the ground with a wince. He scrambled back, taking a look at the figure ahead of him.

"Lookit 'ere. En't _you_ the special one?"

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

"Lyra, dear, don't tap your foot."

A soft, gentle, and warm look was passed her way, stopping whatever loud and gruesome guttural noise was about to explode out of her mouth. Lips had been parted, ready to give such an animalistic sound, almost eager to be so childish and unpleasant. The slouch that her body had been ready for didn't come either. Instead she continued to sit in the white wicker chair with the soft and comfortable, flower patterned pillow.

"Yes, Mrs. Coulter," came her response, her black shoes stopped their incessant noise on the cobble stone below her, one foot stepping on top of the other in an attempt to still them. It was her second day with Mrs. Coulter and first day out about the town that she would only momentarily call home. She was, after all, going to be going to he North.

With a gentle sigh, the young girl set about casting her eyes around the outdoor cafe they were at. It was beautiful. White lace table clothes with fine china and pretty little pink flowers floating in a round and squat vase of water, intermingling among the floating candles placed there. It was a lovely place. The sun was shining down on the cafe, a gentle breeze passing through, ruffling the trees and table cloths. Her finger slowly and gently began to tap on the table, next to the shining silver of her fork, her finely manicured nails gleaming in the sun. The morning had been exciting and extravagant. Mrs. Coulter had the grand idea of taking her to a salon to get her nails done, hair polished, and body feeling rejuvenated. Nothing felt better than being pampered, and boy did it feel splendid.

Her hair shone like spun gold in the sun and her toe nails had little white flowers on the big toe. Her nails were so rounded and pretty and they felt so nice that she often found herself running her fingers over her nails as if to verify to herself that yes, indeed, they can actually be clean and not feel caked in mud, dirt, clay and various other substances that she didn't even think she could name. It was nice to be pampered, and it seemed the day wasn't lacking in new experiences. With a nice little lunch at the shop, they two were shop-ward bound to get new outfits and cute little sundresses.

With an order in mind, the young girl allowed her mind to wander, eyes catching various forms of people (supposedly with various high standings like Mrs. Coulter herself). A flash would catch her eye. A glimmer of jewelry or the shine of a woman tossing her head and, like a moth to the flame, Lyra would look to it. Those weren't the only things that garnered her attention, however. A loud laugh, a youth darting to and fro among the crowd of well to do people. At this time of rest and relaxation, guilt welled up within the girl. Starting at the edges of her person before worming its way closer to her heart.

She had, once again, forgotten about Roger. Not only that, but now _she _had 'mysteriously vanished' without a word to anyone and thus, seemed as if she herself were captured. Of course, that mere idea was entirely absurd. Her? Captured? If anyone had dared to speak aloud such a silly factor, she would have thrown mud in their face and called them a Tomnoddy. As it stood there was no mud to be thrown and she wasn't all too certain what a Tomnoddy _was_, yet all the same her message was clear. Glancing down at the table she noticed that the menu Mrs. Coulter had been looking at was now placed down and the woman was staring with concern at the girl, the monkey on her shoulder looking unreadably towards her as well. Bringing her hand down, Lyra moved it to her lap instead, running her fingers through Pantalaimon's minx fur and attempting to look as positively excited as she _should_ have felt.

"Is something the matter, Lyra? You look a bit..." pursing her lips in thought, the bright eyed woman looked over Lyra once more before speaking. "Lackluster." The girl certainly wasn't showing the shine of youth and exploration that she normally did. Not that Mrs. Coulter was too worried. Children generally got home sick, and the college _had_ been her home for some time. It might take a little while to adjust. All the girl needed was distraction.

The woman had no idea just how right she was. Although what she needed a distraction from was beyond her current ability to identify and know.

" 'm fine, Mrs. Coulter...jus' thinkin' 'bout the College and stuff." The young woman missed the gentle frown that marred apple red lips. It was beyond Mrs. Coulter capacity to know the heart of Lyra's problems, just as it was beyond Lyra's capacity to learn perfect grammar and how 'stuff' wasn't a relatable term in the dictionary. Or in any vocabulary.

"What about it?" She asked with interest, smiling as a waitress in a shining bright white apron and cheerful smile placed down their waters, lemons placed perfectly on the side along with tea cups and plates, small flowers dotting the ceramic ware, matching those within the vase's to almost perfection.

"Just 'bout Roger and Mrs. Lonsdale and everyone," came Lyra's response, pristine fingers eagerly grabbing the glass and bringing it to her polished lips (something which she had been rather excited with, watching as a gentle shade was put on her lips, just like Mrs. Coulter, although certainly not in a color so daring and bold) eagerly. With a smack of her lips she put the glass down, bouncing once excitedly in her seat and ignoring the warning and irritated growl of her daemon.

Mrs. Coulter nodded, smiling fondly at the other girl. "I understand, although that's the life of a traveler. You get to know people and then you're...whisked off to some other location, encountering newer people." Her tone was fond as she spoke, a glimmer coming to her eyes before it all together vanished and her usual look of love and care came into her eyes.

Lyra nodded excitedly, bouncing up and down in excitement. "Can you tell me 'bout the North? Oh please, oh please, oh please?" She probably would have continued onward with a few more lines of 'oh please' had it not been for the irritated nip at her fingers, causing her to stop all together (and keep her fingers away from her dearest friend). Although he shared in her excitement, the emotion welling within his small body, this _was_ supposed to be a nice and easy lunch.

Before the woman could say anything, the waitress came back, asking about whether or not they were ready and what type of delectable treats they would like to purchase. Order were place and the woman left again before the elder woman turned her attention on the enigmatic creature before her. "Of course, dear. But first, I would like to hear about your time at the college. What your learned, of your friends or of people you had met. I do hope you had friends your age from around there." She took a sip of tea at this, keeping her eyes focused on the girl continuously.

If there was ever a time that Lyra could sound most professional and articulate, it was speaking about Jordan College. Or the people around it. The canal wars she had gotten into. Her friends, her 'enemies', and those she had felt closely connected to. She raved about Roger, showing off her experiences of bravado and pointing out more often then not how she was constantly the leader and bravely ventured through places no man, woman, child, or dog would ever go before. "We met Le-Len, _veeeeery_ recently. He's...er...not from 'round there, though. Visitin' fer a bit," she explained, not noticing how Mrs. Coulter's posture straightened a bit more than the perfect posture she had already displayed.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm! He's a bit...proper, though. Nothin' like what I seen at the college. _More_ proper, though. I'd reckon he..." she trailed off gently, eyes widening. Guilt rushed in, overtaking her. She had forgotten about him! Through the excitement of being here and the confusion of the night she left, she had completely forgotten about him and even telling him about where she was going. She didn't even leave a note for him to tell him of where she was going! So much had happened in the span of just two short days that she had forgotten about helping him get back home!

"Lyra, are you okay?" Worry clouded over the woman's face as the young girl slowly led off of her comment, eyes staring with a look almost like that of horror. A pity. The ebony haired woman was hoping, dearly, that this little girl could tell her about the mysterious child who had come into contact with her darling dæmon and had been _able_ to retain such a contact that was forbidden. The unwritten rule that _everyone_ abided by. Well...almost everyone.

For the time being, her attentions were focused on the girl who was so filled with remorse that it was almost seeping out of her in waves. "Dear, what's the matter?" she asked again, putting down her tea cup and reaching her smooth, delicate hand across to hold the hand of the other girls, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"I didn't tell Len. He's got no idea that I'm here and en't taken by Gobblers." She looked up at this, determination etched all over her features. Lips were curved into a stubborn, unmoving pout and eyebrows knitting together in a childish yet strong expression of resilience. "I gotta go tell 'em."

"Why don't you send him a letter?" asked Mrs. Coulter, arching an eyebrow in amusement at the alternative. The look that overcame the girl had the woman smiling in response, perfectly whitened teeth standing out brightly in comparison to her bright lipstick. "You could invite him over as well. I'm hoping to be hosting a dinner party soon. Wouldn't wish for you to stay alone among some generally older and...slower individuals. It would be lovely to have a friend with you, wouldn't you agree?"

Besides the shock that overlay on her features, Lyra was quite obviously ecstatic by this suggestion and thus, as the woman had planned, conversation flowed excitedly, the two exchanging suggestions about this party and who could possibly be there or what they could possibly have for food. Chocolates was a very highly suggested food item for one of the participants.

Unbeknownst to one, however, the dinner party wouldn't happen for a few months at best.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

**A/N: **Thank you to all who have reviewed and have added this to your watchers list! I am very happy that so many of you like this story and will be keeping up with it. This chapter was exceptionally hard for me to write (and...once again...didn't have a second read over because I just wanted to get this out for all you lovely folk). Writers block is the worst. Music certainly helped get me through this, though. For those interested, the types of music I listened to were pretty melodious pieces. Zed from Cirque du Soleil is a huge inspiration for me. I also recently discovered the artists AdrianvonZiegler and BrunuhVille on Youtube. Go check them out. Also, if you would like to recommend music that helps you write or you feel fits my writing or story, please tell me! I'm into all sorts of genre's and it helps me get into the zone.

**R & R, please! Whether it's to suggest a song or say 'I like the story'. It helps let me know people are interested which makes me feel capable of writing and know I'm not writing horribly!**


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